Quench your thirst

Snow

Search for:

Everyone’s a Critic

Time for another entry in Friday Fictioneers challenge, courtesy of Rochelle Wissof-Fields. If you want to give it a try, check the info on her blog. 100 words more or less, inspired by a photo, here we go….

Copyright – ceayr

Stanislav Dobrovski was a quiet man who never smiled. He used to sit at the same table at the local pub, cradling an obligatory bottle of wine.

Some say he was a sailor afraid of open seas, others say he was a pilot afraid of heights. On one thing they all agree…he was a strange man.

They all remember his last words before he dropped dead under the table.

Sand castles be cursed and damned I destroyed them all with my hand I dug out the hole so grand Under my life made of sand

Interesting and funny story, Lore, especially the last line. Poor man. He dies and is only remembered for being a loser, strange, and a poor poet. You painted a vivid word picture of him sitting there then falling under the table dead. 😀 — Suzanne

It was funny and sad… what a way to be remembered.
Now I’ve got the song “I’m an Old Cowhand (From the Rio Grande) in my head…. (cowboy who never saw a cow…. like the pilot afraid of heights… the brain works in mysterious ways…)